


The Peculiar Tale of Prince Diarmuid and the Love Spot

by MsAtomicBomb



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adorable, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Cute, F/M, I hope, I know what I'm doing, Maybe - Freeform, Romance, diarmuid as a disney princess, fairy tale, help me, many fairy tales put together, most likely a short story, there might be more characters as the story progresses, there's a lot going on, yes there's scenes from sleeping beauty snow white and cinderella here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAtomicBomb/pseuds/MsAtomicBomb
Summary: In a far away long ago, there lived a king. His love for women changed like the seasons. Filled with heartbreak, the sorceress Carman curses the king's son, Diarmuid, so that he may never know true love. In the dense thicket of the neighbouring kingdom, Diarmuid meets a young lady.The fairy tale au you never knew you needed...[might fix the summary later]





	The Peculiar Tale of Prince Diarmuid and the Love Spot

 

-

    Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a king. A king belonging to none and yet to all. A king who ruled with righteousness. He had no queen at his side and so lovers he had many of and it was not very hard to capture his heart and lose it soon thereafter. Donn was his name. A strong character indeed. He had hair as black as the feathers of a raven and as unruly as the sea amidst a storm. His skin was as pale as the burning white light of the sun with eyes that could swallow your soul. He was a reckless man when it came to love and adventure, causing plenty of heartbreaks throughout the kingdom.

    A child was born to him, from a peasant woman he once had loved. A child with the smile of the gods and an ever contagious laugh. Donn pledged to himself and his kingdom that he would only belong to his son. A son that was brought to him by years of countless mistakes; with no mother, he was all the child had. A gift so precious, a gift so delicate for a horrid man like himself gave him courage.

    His change of heart was not what his lover wanted, albeit. The lover, not to be trifled with, cursed his son with the worst of anger from heartbreak and disappointment. A most powerful woman filled herself with rage and revenge. A man had no right to toy with her heart, he could not be left untouched. And so, with wrath, she chanted;

_Never shall his first born ever know true love._

_His face shall be beautiful,_

_But he shall be pitiful._

_A single woman brave and strong,_

_A woman bright and young,_

_Shall truly love a most unlovable child._

    And upon his cheek appeared a small beauty mark which the great sorceress called the _Love Spot_.

    Donn, filled with grief and self deprecation, and child in arms, ran through the expanses of Ireland, searching day and night for someone who would care for his son, someone who would be ever worthy of such a precious child. Aengus, a trusted man and dear friend of the king, lived deep into the dense wood in the neighbouring kingdom and Donn knew that was where his child would be safest.

    As often as he could, he would visit his dear son, hoping that when he was old enough, he could bring him back to his kingdom. Nothing hurt Donn more than to give his son away, his heart fell and soon enough, his health slipped through his fingers. Donn died thereafter, and so a mighty Queen took his place.

    Aengus raised the sweet boy, naming him Diarmuid for he would grow to be loved by all and yet by none. He was never told of his true father for he had been quite young when he passed and at his father’s wish, he should not know until he was of age.

    Diarmuid was sheltered from the outside world. He was kept far from women and he would be closely monitored if he were let out to the village. Never once did Aengus wish to shelter him so strictly, but the curse was strong and uncontrollable.

    The child worked ‘round the cabin, learning craftsmanship and swordsmanship. He acquired many trades while he worked diligently for his foster father. He would cook a great deal and clean about the house, take care of the animals they had and even take long journeys into the woods to collect berries. He was a resourceful boy, and very caring.

    He made friends with the animals of the farm and those of the forest alike. Never had he made an enemy with any creature in the wilderness for he was taught to be gentle and never once did he mind not having any other friends as animals would never love the way a human does. They loved unconditionally.

    He grew into a fine man; hair just like that of his father but eyes that could give you a soul if you so lacked one. They were the burning embers of a fire that lit with passion and kindness. He was adventurous and honourable, and even a little reckless like his father (not in love, albeit).

    On a particular day, in a particular evening, the young man walked through the tall trees, hands brushing against the rough bark while his bare feet dwelled upon the crunching leaves. He looked around, taking a deep breath of the sweet fresh air. He had seen no berries but he knew he was sure to find them.

    The bubbling river flowed past him while the many songbirds called out. The occasional bug flew by and the whispering trees lightened his mood. He sat on a boulder, dipping his feet into the cool water, thinking of what he would make for dinner. From the underbrush there appeared a fox, ears perking at the sight on the man.

    Diarmuid smiled, “Hello dear fox, how are you on this fine day?”

    The fox jumped atop the rocks that surfaced above the river and made his way to the man. After reaching the boulder, he hopped upon it and sat next to him.

    “Did you get something to eat yet?” He asked, giving the fox a pat on the head.

    The fox leaned into his touch, giving a soft whine.

    Diarmuid smiled. “Worry not, little friend, I’ve brought something for you.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a few berries he had packed from home for his long journey. The fox never once denied the sweet berries he was fed by the kind man.

    “I think these might be the last of our berries, I didn’t see a single one on my way here. Have you seen any past the river, friend?”

    The fox whined again, tilting his head and drooping his ears.

    Diarmuid sighed, “I thought as much. Now that there aren’t any berries, I should’ve brought my javelin. Father will surely be upset I won’t bring anything home tonight.”

    His furry friend laid down on the rock, leaning against the young man and cuddling into him.

    “I know, I know,” Diarmuid caressed the fox’s ears, “he won’t be mad, but I do think he’ll be disappointed, even if just for a bit.”

    Gently brushing the fox’s fur, he lowly hummed a song. The soft breeze playing with his hair while the birds chirped from their nests. He gave a soft smile, content with the canopy of the trees and lulling river.

    A loud horn burst through the serene forest, lighting all the creatures’ hearts with fear. Diarmuid’s fox stood immediately, ears perked towards the sound. His fur stood and he began to growl.

    “I think we better go,” Diarmuid hushed, pushing himself off the rock and jumping down to the soil below. Back to his cabin he headed followed closely by his friend. The birds left the trees and all the other small creatures of the land scurried off to their homes. Diarmuid sprinted, jumping over logs and stones, while trying to be as silent as possible.

    From the distance, Diarmuid could hear the trotting of horses.

 _When you see a stranger, run straight home_ , those were the words of his father and he abided by them very closely. Looking back, he spotted a lone white stallion following him through the thicket.

    Reaching a clearing, Diarmuid knew he couldn't outrun his follower, and so he stopped, picking up his fox from the floor and holding it defensively.

    The stallion rounded him, a person atop it.

    “Why do you run so?” It was a woman, hair that of the golden wheat ready for harvest and eyes as rich as the forest. She did not wear a dress, in fact, she wore riding trousers and a tunic. Her attire looked to be made of expensive wool and cotton and made her look nearly regal.

    Diarmuid remained silent.

    “I’ve asked you a question,” she sternly spoke.

    “Need I answer?” He frowned, lips curling down as he stared up at her.

    She furrowed her brows and shook her head. “Not particularly…” she seemed to contemplate saying something but she refrained before looking around. “Have you seen a stag pass by?”

    He didn’t answer her.

    “You don’t like to talk much, do you?” She wrapped the reins around her right hand a little tighter as her horse paced on the same spot.

    She wasn’t looking for an answer and so she gave a smile. “I take it you live here, in the forest, yes? You wear no shoes.”

    He looked down at his feet and gave a short nod as he couldn’t really take a look since he still had the fox in his hands.

    “Is he your friend? The fox?”

    “Yes, he’s not for hunting, if that’s what you’re asking.”

    She swung her leg over the horse and jumped off it, landing right in front of Diarmuid himself. “I wasn’t planning on that,” she gave a titter, “He seems to take a great liking to you. Have you named him?”

    Now that she was in front of him and an entire foot shorter than he, she did not look the least bit intimidating. She seemed...rather kind.

    “No, I can never find the perfect name for him...and well,” he looked down at the fox again, “I don’t know that many names at all.”

    “Could I suggest one?” She asked, blinking up at him with that green meadowy gaze.

    Diarmuid breathed. This had been his first time in a long time interacting with someone other than his father. His foster father, a kind man, told him to be wary of strangers as they could be rageful and distrusting, he was best off with making forest friends as opposed to human ones. Humans could always be so greedy.

    “I think Arthur could be a lovely name for him.”

    “Arthur…” He echoed. “What does it mean?”

    She took a deep breath. “It was my brother’s name. It means noble and courageous.”

    Diarmuid smiled, filtered light of the setting sun lit his face and he looked nearly golden. “Your brother must’ve been ever so kind.”

    “Yes,” she nodded, “he was. And he was as gentle and noble as your little friend.”

    Finally, Diarmuid let the fox down on the floor as he no longer considered the woman a threat. “I think Arthur is the perfect name. Thank you.”

    The horn blew again and it startled both of them. Diarmuid jumped while the woman gasped.

    “I...I should be heading off now.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “The hunt continues as I stand here idly chit-chatting.”She gave another laugh and he did too.

    “It was lovely to meet you, miss…? What do they call you?” He extended his hand.

    She landed her own on it and he gave it a gentle kiss. “A-” The horn interrupted her, startling them once more. “Would you be able to help me? I...I am rather short and the horse…”

    “Oh yes! At once.” It wasn’t hard to boost her up so that she could properly straddle the horse.

    “My many thanks,” she looked down upon him, “It was a pleasure to have met you. I hope we can meet again someday.”

    “The stag,” he remembered, “please do not hurt him.”

    She tilted her head, “Is he a friend of yours too?”

    Diarmuid gave a curt nod. “Yes, he is.”

    “Then I shall tell them to let him go.” Taking a hold of the reins, she gave him one last smile. The horse began trotting, “I had nearly forgotten! My name is Arturia.”

    “Arturia?”

    “Yes, it's a strange name,” she called as she continued into the thicket, “but my parents really did like the name Arthur!” And she was gone, disappearing into the bushes and behind the many trees to where the horn blew and the horses galloped.

    “What a strange lady…” Diarmuid mumbled, fixated on the spot she had left through.

    The fox yelped, pacing circles around Diarmuid.

    “Yes, I know. I haven't met many women, but I can assure she’s strange, Arthur.”


End file.
